


soup is a man's best medicine

by schlattcoindealer



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Nausea, Sickfic, Soup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27274018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schlattcoindealer/pseuds/schlattcoindealer
Summary: Thanks to his unfortunate habit of ignoring his illness symptoms for the sake of work, Wilbur makes the poor mistake of streaming whilst sick, and he ends up with a terrible migraine as a result. In an attempt to make their pseudo-brother feel better, Tommy and Tubbo make him some soup.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 344





	soup is a man's best medicine

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based off of a request from canarianYellow on Discord. They asked for some Wilbur sickfic with Tommy attempting to make soup to make him feel better. 
> 
> Honestly, if nobody else makes the Wilbur hurt/comfort for this fandom, maybe I'll just have to do it. I'll feed all you people.

Was it hot in the office, or was it just Wilbur? He’d been feeling a little off all day, plagued by some sort of stuffy flu, but he’d brushed it off for the sake of saving his already poor stream schedule. Now, though, as he sat in a Discord call with Tommy, he was realising just how much of a mistake that was. The room felt positively thick with heat, pressing down on all sides and smothering the Brit until he felt like his head was going to explode from the tension. Suddenly, the office felt all too bright as the light assaulted his eyes, and Wilbur had to squeeze his eyes shut, leaning forward on the desk in a futile attempt to calm the pain.

“Wilbur?” Tommy’s concerned voice faded back into his focus, and Wilbur had to fight back a groan at how the sound seemed to aggravate his raging headache. The teen had been staying at his house with Tubbo for half term as a vlogging treat, though right now that felt like more of a curse than a reward. As much as he loved his pseudo-brother, his voice could be a little… grating.

Opening his mouth, Wilbur went to speak, but a wave of nausea caught him off guard, and he made a pained noise instead. Oh, of course this wasn’t just a normal migraine. He really regretted getting into the habit of ignoring illness symptoms for work now. This was a nightmare.

There was a faint noise of rustling on the other end as Tommy leaned forward in his chair, probably making a worried expression as he stared into the PC monitor. As expected, he piped up again a few seconds later, voice slightly wobbly as he backed out of his post-stream loud persona. “…Are you okay?”

“Sorry, Tommy,” Wilbur somehow managed to speak, noting with a twinge of irritation how his voice betrayed the level of pain he was in. “Think I’m sick. Migraine, too.” His sentences were clipped, each uttered word flaring up the pressure in his head and making the man wince even as he cradled his skull in his hands.

There were a few moments of blessed silence before Tommy spoke up again.

“When are you gonna be back?” the teen asked, voice uncharacteristically quiet. Maybe he was trying to avoid upsetting his head – it was a welcome adjustment, even if it didn’t actually help all that much. Wilbur had to pause to consider the question, his usual thought processes slowed down thanks to the combination of the pounding headache piercing his skull and the rapidly intensifying nausea plaguing his stomach.

“Give me half an hour, yeah?” he said eventually. The walk was nowhere near that long, but the boys shouldn’t need to put up with his poorly timed ill health. The extra ten or so minutes would give him plenty of time to shape up and fake normalcy, at least until he could take some pain relievers. 

“Okay,” Tommy said, voice suddenly rushed as if he were standing up to do something. Wilbur opened his mouth to ask what he was up to, but the call ended abruptly at that point, the too-loud disconnect noise sharp enough to distract the man again. He sighed, beginning the routine process of packing up. He was too ill for this. It was already taking him a significant amount of effort not to lose control of his nausea and inadvertently lose his lunch. The walk home was going to be hell.

\--

In fact, the walk home was worse than hell. The cool air coupled with the bright outdoor light only seemed to aggravate Wilbur’s migraine, making him dizzy and disoriented. It was a surprise nobody took the opportunity to jump him – he most likely looked as weak as he felt. 

He fumbled to unlock the door, basically stumbling through the entrance. The house was warm, warmer than usual, and Will wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than the cold. He shut the door behind him, wincing as it accidentally slammed against the doorframe. God, he hoped the boys wouldn’t mind if he spent the rest of the day alone in the dark. There were sounds of scuffling out in the kitchen – maybe Tommy and Tubbo were getting a snack for themselves. He paid it no mind as he shuffled into his own bedroom, intending to shut the door behind him and maybe only reappear when it came time to prepare something for the boys to eat.

Weakly, Will collapsed on the bed, sighing as his head finally hit something soft. It barely helped the raging migraine, but anything was better than nothing at this point. He’d hoped to get some editing done, maybe publish a queued video or go out and film a few final scenes for the boys’ shared vlog, but the idea of even glancing at a screen right now made his headache flare up insufferably. It would all have to wait, regrettably.

Laying on his back, he let out a long, tired breath as he tried and failed to relax himself. Being sick was such a pain in the ass. Wilbur was not a fan of the helplessness it brought – he liked being independent, damn it. He felt tears prick at his eyes pitifully as his mind danced around the same topics of uselessness over and over.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Will sighed, wiping his eyes gently and pulling a pillow over his face.  
“Yeah?” he called out tiredly, hoping that Tommy and Tubbo hadn’t broken something.

He sat up reluctantly at the sound of the door being gently pushed open, eyebrow raising slightly as he spotted Tommy’s familiar head poke around the opening briefly. A second passed before he opened it fully, producing a bowl of something steaming and hot. He shushed something behind him – was that Tubbo? – before beginning to make his way towards the bedside.

“Hey, big man, um,” he said, surprisingly hesitant. “You sounded a bit shit, so me and Tubbo, we, uh. We made you some soup.” Tommy extended the bowl out hesitantly as if he were trying to prove his statement, and the warm aroma finally hit Wilbur. “We made sure not to burn anything.” 

Immediately, Will felt his expression soften somewhat. He wasn’t usually big on soup, but the gesture alone was enough to warm his heart despite the incessant pain in his head. He accepted the bowl carefully, lowering it so that it could rest on his lap. The liquid inside was bright red – clearly they’d gone straight for the tomato, a classic choice.

A weak smile formed on Wilbur’s face. “You didn’t have to do anything for me,” he said, voice basically a whisper, the words thick with gratitude.

“Can’t have you dying or anything,” Tommy said, his own iconic smile returning full force. A playful twinkle sparkled in his blue eyes. “I know you’re really old, so I thought you’d need it.” He paused. “Tubbo suggested the soup, though. I wanted to actually cook, but then we remembered that we don’t know how.” 

Wilbur chuckled softly at that, nestling the bowl in his hands. “I appreciate it a lot, Tommy. Tell Tubbo I said thank you.” 

The teenage boy seemed to brighten up further at that, beaming as he started to back away. “Will do,” he grinned. “Don’t kick the bucket while I’m gone.”

Just like that, Tommy had left the room, and even though Wilbur’s crippling headache and nausea hadn’t faded at all, he somehow felt a little better as he went to drink the soup.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @general-light.  
> This is my side AO3 for shorter works. My main is KadeAK (zacixn), and over there I write furry AU content. Go check that out, too.
> 
> Standard rules apply: if you see a typo, no you do not.


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